


Who is Watching the Watchers?

by Notasmuch



Series: Wee!chesters [10]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Character Bashing, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-02-19
Updated: 2011-02-19
Packaged: 2017-10-15 18:47:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 673
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/163788
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Notasmuch/pseuds/Notasmuch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam watches Dean help John after a hunt.<br/>Set some time after Supernatural Christmas memories.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Who is Watching the Watchers?

**Author's Note:**

> Some John bashing.
> 
> Sam is 9, Dean is 13.

He hated the smell of mold. And somehow, this room smelled of mold everywhere. The shower curtain was moldy, window frames were moldy and rotting, ceilings were wrinkled with humidity and... moldy. He slept on his back just so his face wouldn't press into the stinking pillow.

Right now though, he was on his side, discomfort forgotten as he watched through his lashes at Dean, filling a big pot with water and putting it on the stove.

Dad was back.  
The faint sound of tires on gravel did nothing to disturb Sam's sleep, but Dean was up in a second.

While they waited for the water to boil, Dean helped dad out of the jacket and Sam bit his lip not to make a sound when he saw the gash on his father's arm. Dean went to the bathroom and came out with towels and emergency kit. He knew what was coming and how sick it would make him, but he couldn't look away. They didn't know he was watching so nobody even tried to block his view.

Dean cleaned and sutured the wound the best he could, dad's voice an even whisper as he gave instructions, like Dean had never done it before. Weak, orange light above the table and the blood that wouldn't stop trickling united to made his job harder but he never said a word beyond _Lift it up a bit_. When he was done, dad said _Good job_ , and for some reason Sam wanted to kick him.

Just a few years ago he would have thought this was a perfectly normal scene. But he went to school now. He knew not all kids fell asleep during class because they stayed up all night patching up their father. Not all kids spent life moving from motel to motel, cabin to cabin. He no longer thought "friends" were something that only existed in stories Dean used to read to him.

Now he knew dad shouldn't be telling Dean he did a good job. He should have sent him to sleep. Should have remembered it's school night and Dean had to be up in a few hours. Shouldn't have come back bloody in the first place.

He heard the fridge open and close and knew Dean was taking _their_ breakfast and giving it to dad.

When he finished eating, dad leaned back in the chair and sighed, pressing his eyes with fingers, clearly exhausted. Dean was at his shoulder in a second, mumbling words Sam couldn't hear but knew they were comfort. Irrationally, he hated his father for a moment for taking that comfort so easily. Like it was the most normal thing in the world.

They talked for a while longer, hushed voices, worship in Dean's eyes telling him dad was talking about his trip, the real one, not the version Sam would get. Then Dean laid his hand on dad's arm and told him to go to sleep, he would clean up.

He watched Dean work around kitchen after dad went to sleep in Dean's bed, until he turned the light off and slipped in the bed behind Sam. He turned to Dean then and the amulet on his brother's chest seemed to shine under the moonlight for a moment. His pajamas smelled like mold too but Sam shifted a bit closer anyway. "Sleep Sammy, everything is all right." Dean's hand in his hair led him to sleep, shushing all the words that wanted to pour out of his mouth.

The next morning when Dean woke up Sam was sitting at the table, drinking milk and kicking the chair lightly with his foot.

"You made breakfast?"

"Your snoring woke me up hours ago. Was hungry. Here, you can have this, I'm done." He pushed the milk and a whole sandwich towards Dean, then got up to dress for school. And if he accidentally swung his bag hard enough to hit dad in the leg and wake him up, well, there was nobody there who could prove he wasn't sorry.


End file.
